We had a small farm when I was growing up. We had a few cows, some chickens, a couple of goats, a pig and some turkeys. There was 90 some acres and only 2 or so was level. We owned part of a side of what was named McGee Mtn. Our cows had 2 legs shorter on one side from grazing on the sides of hills. Anyhow on to the turkey story.. I was coming down from squirrel hunting one morning, and saw one of the Toms stomping his buddy to death. I ran up and shoed him away but it was to late. He was still warm, so I grabbed him up by his feet and headed to the house. Mom was hanging laundry on the line, and saw me coming down with one of her turkeys in one hand and shot gun in the other. She thought I shot her turkey. After some explaining we dressed that bird out and had him ready for cooking, we were very efficient at dressing turkeys and chickens. I remember how the old Toms would all of a sudden fluster up their feathers, their cones would swell and hang longer and then when they drum the sound they make you could feel the vibrations in your chest.